Metal winged angel
by catapilla1
Summary: Her father is an inventor. Her mother an experiment. Her family rejects. For Max, life is tough, but it gets changed- for better or worse- with  a pair of metal wings.


Lightning crashed above the workshop roof. My father, Jebadiah Batchelder was finishing up his latest project. You see, my father is an inventor, though his experiments have a very low success rate.

My twin brother, Ignatius (though he prefers _Ignite_), or Iggy, was sitting in his corner of the workshop with Gary (who prefers _Gazzy_), my youngest brother. Random flashes of light and banging sounds told me that they were experimenting with explosives again.

Angelina, my favourite sibling was sitting in the middle of the room playing with her stuffed bear Celeste, her six-year-old innocence was shining through her skin, making her look like a cherub.

"Finished," whispered my father, smiling and his eyes filled with wonder. My siblings and I walked over to him. I put my arm around Angelina

On the bench was a pair of massive, though still beautiful metal wings. They even had individual feathers, made of the thinnest and most intricately detailed titanium.

"Will they work?" I asked.

"Of course they will, m'dear Maxine!" my father scoffed, his voice filled with confidence. I didn't trust him.

I flinched at his use of my full name. I hate it; it makes me sound weak and girlie. But I had to ask my question, because, well, my father's inventions only have about two percent chance that they actually work.

"Are you going to test them? Or can I?" Iggy asked.

I rolled my eyes at him. He's always so keen to try out dad's inventions, even if they'll kill him. In fact, the last experiment he tested made him blind and never able to recover his sight, ever again.

"Actually, I want Maxine to test them. I've always known she's wanted to fly. It's her childhood dream."

And it was true. I have always wanted to fly. It was like the sky was calling for me. But still, was one of my father's inventions... "Umm, I'm not sure. Remember what happened with your last invention dad?" I said, glancing over at Iggy.

My father must have sensed my uncertainty, because he reassured me, "I'll have you attached to a harness and a cable. It won't hurt you at all. Please Maxine?"

"First: I'll do it. Secondly: Don't call me Maxine."

But I knew the reason why he did. My mother used to call me Max, before she died. She died about a week after giving birth to Angelina, when I was eight.

Since then, I've kind of been the mother of the house.

"I think it's a good idea Max!" Angelina piped up. I pulled her into a hug.

"I think so too sweetie, I'm just a little worried, that's all."

And it was true- wouldn't you be worried for your life [if... (I know what you're talking about, but you should add it in)] as well? I straightened my back [wasn't she already standing?] and gave my dad a little nod. He proceeded to put the wings onto my back.

The way the wings worked was actually quite ingenious. They moved like a bird's wings, and the way you move them was by just moving small muscles on your back. You didn't need a harness to keep them on your back; they just stuck to me like another body part. They used little miniscule needles embedded in your skin, connecting to your spinal column. I really wanted to see how well these wings worked with actual flying. They could fold up on your back, so if you didn't want someone to see them, they couldn't.

"They look so cool on you Max!" Angelina yelled. "You look like an angel!"

"Thanks sweetie," I cooed. The wings were just calling to me to start flying.

I took a deep breath and started running.

"MAXINE! THE HARNESS!"

But I ignored my father. I kept running until I was going at a decent speed, and jumped into the air. I flapped the wings by twitching the muscles in my back. It was like the wings were just another part of my back.

I kept rising until I could touch the high ceiling of the workshop. I surged forward and twitched my left wing slightly, so I was flying in circles near the workshop's roof. Iggy opened the door, so I positioned myself in front of it, and flew outside into the storm.

Flying felt so natural. Just like walking, or riding a bike. I didn't care that thunder was crashing around me, or that there was torrential wind and rain chilling my bones. I could stay in the air forever. But then, the lightning struck

**Me: Yay!  
Dylan: yeah! Review and tell us what you think so far!  
Me: you seem very cheerful...should I be concerned?  
Dylan: no, I LOVE you torturing me!  
Me: Yay!  
Dylan: damn...reverse psychology doesn't work...**


End file.
